Are We So Different?
by elysiandreaming
Summary: To a casual observer, Commodus and his sister, Lucilla, couldn't be more different - he a scheming, bloodthirsty youth, she a moral, dignified lady. Yet there is a side to Lucilla she has never shown before...
1. Chapter I

**Chapter I**   
  
Lucilla watched her brother pace across the room from a crack in one of the big wooden doors in the palace. No doubt he was plotting something. An assasination, perhaps, probably that of Maximus. The Spaniard had been irritating him for some time now. But he wouldn't have to worry about him for much longer. Commodus finally settled in a chair.   
  
Lucilla clutched at the volmunous skirt of her elegant dress, and stood up, walking quietly towards him.   
  
"Can't sleep, brother?"   
  
He turned to face her. His hair was disheveled, his face pale - since he had seized the throne, sleep had been a rare luxury.   
  
"I'm just thinking, that's all. Where's Lucius?"   
  
"It's late, he's sleeping, of course," she replied. "He has been for hours."   
  
Commodus sighed, and looked at his sister. His shoulders were slumped, his tired eyes narrowed.   
  
"He's so lucky," he said. "He doesn't have a single worry in the world."   
  
You mean, he doesn't have the murder of his father weighing on his conscience, Lucilla thought, but was wise enough not to say.   
  
"I'll mix you a tonic, shall I? To help you sleep."   
  
Commodus nodded in response, and slumped back in his chair.   
  
Lucilla walked quickly to the table where the medicines and herbs were kept. She began to stir one of the finely crushed powders into a small glass of water. Her expert fingers had done this, many, many times before - when she was younger, she used to mix tonics for her father, the great Marcus Aurelius. As she stirred the potion, waiting for all the powder to be disolved, she glanced at her brother. He had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he breathed. She had to look away - despite all the terrible atrocities he had done, from the murder of their father, to the slaying of the family of the man she'd loved - and still loved - he was still her _brother_, nothing would change that.   
  
With unsteady hands, she reached up the left sleeve of her dress and pulled out the small glass bottle that she'd been hiding there. Her heartbeat deafening her, she removed the stopper and tipped the murky liquid in with the tonic. As quick as she'd removed it, she slid the bottle back up her sleeve.   
  
"Commodus," she called to him, "It's ready."   
  
She carefully carried the glass over to him. A thought struck her - could someone have seen her add the liquid? Who knows who the night's shadows could have hid in the grand palace? She feared the Praetorian guards, everyone in Rome did, no one was safe from them, not even the Emperor if he displeased them. She carried on, the thought still troubling her. As she approached him, his eyes opened again, and met with hers. Lucilla shuddered inside - even a simple glance or a smile from her brother, could make her feel uncomfortable. Eyes which had witnessed such evil, lips that had given the orders for such terrible acts. At that moment, she knew she was doing the right thing, no matter how heartbreaking it seemed to her now.   
  
Commodus reached out and took the glass, stared at it for a few seconds, and then swallowed the liquid quickly.   
  
"I... I must go now," Lucilla could only manage a shaky whisper. "I will see you in the morning. Sleep well, goodnight." She turned from Commodus, but quickly felt his strong hand on her shoulder.   
  
"A kiss?"   
  
Lucilla slowly turned back. Commodus' eyebrows were raised expectantly, his eyes glimmered with hope. Once again, he looked so childlike, vunerable and somewhat naive. 'The body of a man, but the eyes of a child,' Lucilla and their father used to tease him. Back when she didn't fear him.   
  
Perhaps, had he not made her heart turn to stone over the time of his reign, a tear might have come to her eye. 


	2. Chapter II

**Chapter II**  
  
One of Lucilla's maids interupted her pretence of sleep when she sharply pulled back the curtain of Lucilla's bedroom - a harshly punishable offence if Lucilla hadn't had more important things on her mind.   
  
"My lady, you are needed urgently."   
  
Faintly-golden sun rays filtered through the palace's windows, and Lucilla guessed that dawn had just passed. She'd been awake all night, thinking, planning. Sleep had not been an option. She stood up promptly, was helped into some clothes, and followed her servant through the eerily-quiet hallway.   
  
Outside Commodus' bedroom, a surgeon was waiting, along someone she vaguely recognised as a Senator.   
  
"My lady," the surgeon bowed. "I regret to inform you, your brother was found dead this morning. I offer my sincere sorrow for your loss." Lucilla bowed her head slowly, and walked into his room. He lay on the bed, just as if he was sleeping. So the tonic did work then, Lucilla thought, and barely surpressed an inappropriate smile.   
  
Another observation came into her mind: a member of her family was laying dead, and the murderer was in the same room. It was all terribly familiar.   
  
"How did he die?" Lucilla asked, her thin voice cracking, maybe out of sadness, maybe out of guilt. She took his pale, limp hand in her own, and kissed it. A dead person deserved respect, no matter how they lived their life. And Commodus needed all the love and prayers he could get now - the Elysian Fields seemed an unlikely destination for him.   
  
"We think he may have been poisoned, somehow, as there are no wounds, and he showed no symptoms of an illness previously," the surgeon responded.   
  
Unexpectedly, Lucilla felt tears escape from her eyes, leaving hot, stinging trails down her cheeks. She realised that she wasn't crying for her brother. She had no choice but to kill him. She was crying for her son, for her father, for herself, for Maximus, for Rome.   
  
After composing herself, she began to implicate the second part of her plan. She quickly slid her left hand underneath the bed. She shook her wrist, so that the bottle, still hidden in her sleeve, fell to the floor.   
  
"What's this?" She managed to look faintly puzzled as she "discovered" the small bottle on the floor. She handed it to the surgeon. He took it, held it up to his nose, and frowned. "It seems to be some kind of poison." He looked at Lucilla. "Tell me," he said gently, sympathetically, "did your brother ever speak of suicide?"   
  
"Suicide?" Lucilla paused, and her eyes widened. Everything was going well. "We were talking last night." She stopped to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the palm of her hand. The tears were real; the words were not. "He seemed unhappy, he was very regretful, he kept saying, 'I wish I hadn't...' " her weak voice trailed off. "But I didn't think for a second that it would come to this." She sighed, and looked across at her brother's face - even in death he carried an unhappy expression.   
  
"You do realise what happens in these situations, don't you?" The Senator frowned, creasing his brow, his tone of voice still quiet and respectful. "The power goes to the Senate, until a succesor has been elected." The power goes to the Senate, Lucilla repeated in her head, and smiled. It was what her father had wanted. Things were working out better then she'd anticipated.   
  
"Yes, I understand. But I want one thing to be made clear. My son is not to be made Emperor. Royalty has already corrupted my family too much, I do not want Lucius to share my brother's fate." Now she was speaking the truth.   
  
"You wish will be honoured, I assure you," the Senator smiled and bowed.   
  
"Thank you," Lucilla managed a weak smile. "Before you leave, just one more thing. My brother, before his untimely demise, was planning something. I think it would be a fitting tribute to his Majesty if we carried it out."   
  
The Senator's eyes widened. "Of course, anything at all."   
  
Lucilla began to speak: "He told me that the immorality of one man or one woman being worth less than another was wrong. He wanted the slaves of Rome to be let free, to live and to prosper. All of them. The Christians, the labourers... the _gladiators_."   
  
Lucilla paused and shut her moist eyes, bowing her head. "It was the last wish of the Emperor. Honour it."   
  
"It is an issue which I myself have brought before the Senate on a number of occassion, and is very close to my heart. I will personally make sure that it is carried out," the Senator responded. He bowed and left the room. The surgeon also bowed and began to follow him, walking towards to the gap in the curtained room.   
  
"Stop!" Lucilla called, looking up at him. "I need to ask a favour of you. After all, they say that you can trust a doctor," she smiled. "Go to Proximo's Gladiator School. Tell General Maximus to be ready to leave Rome at dawn tomorrow, I will send a carriage for him." She slipped several gold coins into the surgeon's hand.   
  
He smiled at the surprise of the money - it was several months wages, at least. "I will do that straight away." He hurried out of the room.   
  
Alone at last, Lucilla turned towards her slain brother. She felt as if a lead weight had been lifted off her heart. Rome was free once more.   
  
As she looked as his face, she whispered, "I killed when I had to, as did you. Were we so different?"   
  



End file.
